Oh Hey A Lot Of One-Shots
by Maelstrom Alert
Summary: Random one-shots that I think of. Yeah.
1. America Is Being Mean

**A/N: Yeahhhh hi. I made a bunch of ideas and never used them. So why the hell not! Sorry for OOC-ness.**

**Pairing warning: DenPru**

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Denmark smirked at America. "See ya at the hockey game," he said.

America nodded, sneering. "Of course, I'll win, since you guys suck, and also you don't have a lot of athletes. Als-!" He got cut off by Prussia slapping him upside the face.

Prussia narrowed his eyes. "America. Don't."

America laughed, boisterous and loud as usual. Also, like usual, he didn't read the mood.

"Why? 'Cause he's your boyfrieeeend? Is that why you're standing up for hiiim?" drawled out America.

The albino and the Nordic lunged for him. "Ack!" he spluttered as they punched and kicked him violently. Denmark managed to get him in a head-lock, and then Prussia sat on him.

This obviously wasn't one of their regular fights. His friends really, really meant every hit. America whined, before he tried pushing them off with his super strength. He didn't want to hurt them, however, so he didn't.

When he opened his eyes (that he didn't notice he had been shutting tight), he came face-to-face with angry blue and red eyes.

"Don't..." hissed Prussia again. Denmark just got up and walked away without looking back.

The ex-nation put his hands over his eyes, shook his head, and sighed. "You just don't take a clue, do you? Not cool," chastened Prussia, not even saying the word 'awesome'. He was deadly serious.

America was still in shock as Prussia ran after the old Viking. "Denny, wait up!"

* * *

**A/N: Short is short. Yup.**


	2. That's Not True

**A/N: Hallo! Maelstrom here. Erm, I dunno. Just felt like making this...? Word.**

**Pairing warning: DenNor**

**Enjoy!**

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7:00 am, Sochi, Russia

All of the nations were gathered in the Olympic Village, in the Nation section for a quick break of the events. They were all situated in the dorm of America, China, England, and France, talking. All old grudges and fights were put aside for the event, and there was chatter everywhere. Food too, much to the excitement of America. Also, Italy Veneziano and Italy Romano were bothering everyone to collect late birthday gifts for their short program ice skater, Carolina Kostner. So, pretty much chaos.

Someone had the great idea to put the top seven medal winners in the front of the room. Canada, Netherlands, Austria, Norway, Sweden, Czech Republic and America were awkwardly standing there. Sweden was giving America death glares, as Finland smiled sadly beside him and Norway. Norway, however, was animatedly speaking with Canada and Netherlands.

Suddenly, red sleeves shot out behind Norway and wrapped him into a bear hug. Norway gasped and stiffened. "What the fuck," he said unemotionally. He was suddenly spun around to face a widely grinning Denmark. "Norgie!" he cheered. Said 'Norgie' rolled his eyes as he pulled out of the Dane's grasp. Of course, he got pulled back into it as Denmark glomped him. "Norgie!" he shouted again, burying his face into Norway's chest, much to his annoyance. "Congrats on the four medals! You and Sve did awesome!"

Norway stared at Denmark. He seemed happy. But when Denmark lifted his head... Oh Gud, was he crying? Norway awkwardly patted him on the back and led him into America's room. After avoiding countless burger wrappers, they sat on the bed as Denmark sobbed in Norway's arms.

"Shit, Norgie, I'm so sorry," apologized Denmark, wiping his nose with his arm. The corner of Norway's lips lifted in a small smile. "If you need to tell me something, go ahead, but I'll only listen if you stop calling me, ah, Norgie." He turned his head. "Though, big brother would be nice," he mused to himself.

Denmark shrugged. "Okay... Norge... I'm just really worried that my athletes won't get a medal at all! I know, I know! It's a horrible reason to cry!" Norway ran his hands through the taller man's hair. "Shh. I'm sure you will... And it's not silly."

His fellow nation smiled weakly. "And what if you're wrong?" he asked hesitantly. Norway smirked at him. "The Olympics isn't all about winning," was his simple reply. Soon, they were both smiling crazy grins that would rival the Cheshire Cat.

Denmark started blushing and tried pulling away, but this time, he got pulled back. They were hugging fiercely, until the door burst open to reveal a furious England.

All of them started talking at the same time, Norway's stoic demeanor shattering.

Everyone in the villa could hear the following tidbits:

"Shit!"

"What the bloody hell are you guys DOING in here?"

"Dammit, go away! We were having a moment!"

"Seriously, England?"

"Damn you, Norway! It's not MY fault you guys were in here!"

After a few moments of muttering, England stormed down the stairs, with Norway and a disheveled Denmark trailing after him.

France gaped in shock, before closing his mouth and cackling. "Ohonhonhonhonhon! So, I see Norway tops! Interesting information, thank you England!"

As the red-faced Brit turned angrily onto the Frenchman, Iceland was gaping as well. "Norway tops?" he echoed in disbelief. Meanwhile, on the other side of the house, Hungary and Japan were rapidly deleting DenNor fanctions and doujinshis on the Asian's laptop. "I can't believe it's actually NorDen!" exclaimed Hungary, voicing Japan's exact thoughts.

Poland stared. "What were you guys doing? Like, seriously, it's totally freaking me out."

Norway and Denmark turned to face each other in shock.

"They-" "They thought-!"

"WHAT!?"


	3. Aristocratic Savior

**A/N: Well. SHORT IS SHORT.**

**Pairing warning: AusHun**

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Hungary smiled at Austria before they snowboarded down the hill.

It was nighttime in Sochi. Many of the countries were doing the events on the tracks that were vacant. Netherlands and Japan were speedskating, while America, Jamaica, Canada and England went to the bobsled track. The Nordic countries were, fittingly enough, doing the Nordic combined. Russia and Latvia were practicing on the hockey rink, Latvia being surprisingly pretty good, according to Russia the next day. Italy was skiing with Germany and Slovakia. France, Spain and Romano were snowboarding with the two, as well.

"So," said Hungary. "Why do your pants say Austria on them?" she asked, gesturing to the offending piece of clothing.

Austria turned to her, raising an eyebrow. "Why not?"

Hungary giggled. "I don't know, I just thought it looked kinda cute," she explained. "Country pride."

The violet-eyed nation cracked a tiny smile. "Yes, I suppose," he agreed.

There was a slight pause. "Wait- WHY WERE YOU LOOKING AT MY PANTS?!" he shouted.

Hungary's eyes widened. "Er- No reason! Gotta go, bye!" And with that, she sped off down the slope.

"HUNGARY!" called Austria after her.

His reply was a loud Prussian cackle, followed by a Romanian snicker at the bottom of the slope. He looked down.

Well.

They were currently pelting his dear Eliza with frying pans. Their payback, he supposed. He smiled and sped down the slope.

Sometimes, aristocrats can be heroes, too.


End file.
